Existing is My Nightmare
by Bleeding Star Goddess
Summary: SS/HP "You don't have nightmares Severus," Harry chuckled, "What you have are bad dreams, but at least you get to wake up from yours." Slash, Violence, Character-Insanity, DARK
1. Chapter One To Have the Nightmare

**Title**: Existing is My Nightmare

**Chapter:** 1/?

**Author:** Bleeding Star Goddess

**Rating:** M

**Pairings:** Severus/Harry

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warnings:** This story will contain situations of torture, extreme violence, relationships of the homosexual and heterosexual nature, and character mental instability, as well as **graphic****depictions of gore**, this story is AU and does not take place within the Harry Potter timeline

**Summary:** "You don't have nightmares Severus," Harry chuckled, "What you have are bad dreams, but at least you get to wake up from yours."

----

**Chapter One: To Have the Nightmare**

"DAMNIT ALL ALBUS YOU ASK TOO MUCH OF ME THIS TIME! I REFUSE!" is what he wanted to yell at the headmaster who sat there smiling at him, eyes twinkling in that infuriating way that let the headmaster know what Severus was thinking. That same twinkle let the man know how to bend Severus to his "suggestions." Oh Severus would like nothing more than to cram the bowl of lemon drops down the man's throat and let him choke on them while he danced around his desk laughing and taunting.

His long spider fingers released the vice grip on the arms of the chair; the nearly sentient creature sighing in gratitude and hardening the cushions beneath him in retaliation. The noise and din of the headmaster's office prattled in his ear as incessantly as the empty-minded brats he had to teach daily. A slow breath hissed itself from between his clenched teeth and his black pools pictured more creative murders of the old fool he called confidant.

And yet, the headmaster just sat there, smiling with his fingers laced and set atop his desk. The phoenix was perched upon a Merlin-awful hat with bright pink and blue flamingos and green and yellow hedgehogs flying and rolling around on his matching robes.

No, Severus would not, could not deny this man, especially if he wanted too. So instead of the curse and the slamming denial he so desperately wanted to scream, he nodded his head.

"Very well Albus, I shall do what I can."

"Wonderful Severus!" the old coot beamed, clapping his hands once. The man had always known the answer yet he seemed to act inordinately pleased and surprised by the Potions Master's response. "Poppy is just about to put him to bed so you best hurry," the man skillfully suggested in such a way that truly meant "go now and don't fuck up" but then again Albus had always been a master of word play.

Severus bit back the growl in his throat, knowing that the headmaster had heard at least a part of the sound since he gave him a warning glance over the rim of his glasses. Severus nodded his head and unable to even slam the door behind him for the satisfaction of retaliation.

Once outside the headmaster's office he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, the momentary indulgence towards habit and weakness a swift occurrence before he stalked down the halls, a snarl on his lips and points taken from any student who so much as blinked in his direction.

With an irritation and an ulcer he was sure such situations were developing, he went over in his mind the very reason he was in the circumstances he was about to partake in.

Potter.

It was always blasted Harry Potter. Spawn of the wretch and hellion James and Lily Potter.

And once again the damnable Scourge-That-Wouldn't-Be-Killed was in trouble and Albus had put him to task of fixing the matter!

Oh he would kill them both if the alternative was not so disgusting!

He growled and snapped a detention at a first year Gryffindor for breathing too loudly. The action didn't lessen his ire by any means as he knew it would bring Minerva's scorn upon his brow and beat him senseless until he revoked the action. His steps were silent plagues on the stone as he stalked towards the hospital wing.

Harry Potter was having nightmares. Alright, so even Severus had to admit it was more than that as he took away points from a Ravenclaw for existing and being a dark mark on the earth's surface.

The boy was going insane or (more likely) acting like it in any case. And the little attention-seeking-spawn was doing a bang-up job of it too, a marvelous performance worthy of Shakespeare's stage.

His little worshipers - Weasley and Granger - had expressed to their head of house that Potter would scream with such ferocity he broke through three different silencing spells, all of varying degree in strength. And it wasn't just at night, no, even Severus got to witness first-hand the boy's performance. Potter would just stare off into space be it in class or at meals and suddenly burst out laughing or start screaming with a similar intensity described by his companions as tears rolled down his eyes. In the middle of class he would grow inexplicably violent, and no one was safe from his fists. Granger had, in fact, been the latest victim as he had nearly choked her to death, the boy would then either see what he had done and break down in tears begging for forgiveness or quite literally skip off as if he had not just nearly committed murder.

He had taken a penchant for standing and sitting in high areas. The memory of the boy dancing and singing in the rafters of the Great Hall was still quite lucid in his memories. Potter had rained bird feathers covered in blood down onto the masses of the students. His giggling and laughing interrupted his song "Alouette je te plumerai" as the screams filled the hall, a dead school owl in his hands.

There were a slew of other grievances that would make an Azkaban prisoner proud. One particular moment was during dinner in the dining hall he had gotten up and charged at Albus, the intent to kill clearly defined within the gleam of his eyes as he had a wand brandished and the words "Ava-" on his lips before about forty stunners had slammed into his body and rendered him immobile, the hall sitting stunned before breaking out into screeches and exclamations.

Severus turned down a hallway, pausing in his quick stride to disarm one of his Slytherin's from stunning another student, scaring them both just enough that they bolted and he hadn't bothered to assign detention to either.

It wasn't that they had waited for Potter's conditions to get worse. Quite the contrary, they had tried every possible remedy to not only asses the brat's sudden inclination to gore, violence, and insanity but to cure it as well. They had no idea what was causing the boy to act as he did only that it was a serious problem. Of course, that didn't stop the leeches and dregs of society known as the press from writing up story after story about the maddened Boy-Who-Lived and how the death of Voldemort was affecting his mind (although that may have very well been the truth) and that he would merely become the next Dark Lord and other such tripe that scattered and littered around the court-yards and hallways of the school.

They had exhausted nearly every option they could think of, trying to avoid sending Potter to St. Mungo's at all cost since they would not be able to stop the press from getting a hold of him there. It was, not entirely surprisingly, Granger's suggestion that they enter Potter's dreams since that's when he seemed the most violent and unstable. And that had led him to a rather frustrating conversation with Albus; Severus was going to be the one to enter Potter's dreams while Albus would act as the anchor since he was definitely the more powerful of the two. Albus would see the dreams but be unable to interact whilst Severus was stuck having to deal with whatever creature the boy's lack of intelligence and imagination could spawn.

Albus would be there as well. Severus had to go and get the potion that would allow them to enter the Potter-brat's dreams and link his mind to Potter's own. It needed to be a smooth transition into his dream-state so as not to alert whatever-the-hell it was causing the boy to be downright bonkers to their presence.

He could not even take pleasure in the calming affect his dungeons' held within their stone-walls as he had to enter his private labs, grab a potion they had prepared just for this situation and head back towards the infirmary. He refused to let any sort of living creature short of himself and Albus into his lab, so asking a house-elf to get it had been out of the question. Of course, now he had to get back **up **to the main corridors and to Poppy's domain before the sleep potion they had given Potter took affect.

He was too dignified to sprint, but he was certainly winded as he arrived back into the infirmary, Albus smiling contently at him even as worry ate at his sockets as Potter had been restrained to the bed.

"Ah Severus my boy, shall we then? Do recall though that we are not entirely aware what will be in store for us," let it never be said that the headmaster couldn't make any situation seem like a matter of afternoon tea.

Severus growled producing the potion he would drink and the instructions for Poppy for when he and Albus went under and into Potter's cobwebs he had the audacity to call a mind.

He was sure Albus had also instructed her on what she could, could not, should, and never under any circumstance even if the resurrected corpse of Voldemort working in tandem with an enraged Molly Weasley were to blast down the school should not do.

Severus removed his outer robe for the sake of comfort as he put a hand atop Potter's own after having downed half of the potion. He watched as the rest was mixed with an equal amount of water for Albus and he drank it as well after taking the Potions Master's hand into his own. The man had been wise enough to transfigure comfortable chairs next to the bed as they were soon under the potion's effects and inside Potter's head.

----

Alouette je te plumerai is a song about plucking a bird. The rough translation

Alouette je te plumerai is "Lark I will pluck you"


	2. Chapter Two To Enter the Nightmare

**Title: **Existing is My Nightmare

**Chapter:** 2/?

**Rating:** M

**Pairings:** Severus/Harry

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warnings:** This story will contain situations of torture, extreme violence, relationships of the homosexual and heterosexual nature, and character mental instability, as well as **graphic** **depictions of gore**, this story is AU and does not take place within the Harry Potter timeline

----

**Chapter Two: To Enter the Nightmare**

His body felt pushed through the cracks of a shattered mirror as he entered Potter's mind. He was cut and torn and rendered to pieces as the slivers and veins of the mirror pushed the existence of Severus' being into all different directions, trying to make him as fractured and unstable as the boy.

Despite the pain upon entering his landing was gentle as he became submerged in the darkness. The darkness was thick, tangible and a veritable wall of pain that slid over his senses, blinding him and choking him. The ringing keening of broken wailing slammed into his skull made him cover his ears in haste to protect his mind from further agony. The cruel thought of Potter's mind being an empty space ceased in the quickness of a blink. He knew that he had to find Potter's dream-self, the image he portrayed in his mind as he existed in these nightmare, in a flurry. Severus knew that whatever terrors plagued the boy would not be destroyed by a simple spell.

Severus walked around blindly in the darkness, heading in one direction and decided his best option was just going straight (or what he assumed to be straight). His hands remained covering his ears and he winced as the sound of the cacophony grew louder and softer alternatively. He didn't know where Albus was, or even if the man could see him or was affected like he was. The tortured screams and thick tangible darkness he had to wade through made each harrowing step more determined to find and fix the problem the brat had found himself in yet again.

Each step he took became heavier and harder, his feet sucked into the depths of the blackness as if he was trudging through mud and it sucked down on the soles of his shoes.

Forced to stop for breath, he panted at the sheer exertion this act of walking through the muck of Potter's mind had caused him. He eased the pressure on one of his ears to see if the wailing had ceased and he heard nothing, not even his own breathing. A flash of fear went through him at the thought that he may no longer be breathing at all but he banished it away. His eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth. He had still found no sign of Potter, and he wasn't even sure he was heading in the right direction! He didn't know if he was moving at all!

"POTTER!" he called out into the silence, his voice not even echoing along the seams of the darkness. He idly wondered if screaming would damage the brat's psyche further, but before he had long to ponder what the action may have caused, he saw a figure seemingly glowing far off in the distance.

He walked towards it, his steps no longer weighed down by the muck and thickness of the darkness. Perhaps calling the boy's name had actually been the trick? He reached the body faster than the thought of his next step, almost as if he had been standing there the whole time and just needed to take one step forward.

The body before him glowed, but he soon realized that that was not entirely true. The hooded figure was darker, blacker, and deeper than the enveloping darkness standing out from his surroundings and so his essence glowed. That Severus had even considered the bleak darkness he had just waded through to even be called that compared to the visage of this creature felt foolish and naïve.

"Potter?" he asked carefully, wondering if this entity was a part of the boy's insanity, or worse, the cause of it.

The creature did not talk as he turned to gaze at him, the deep hood hiding the features of the small body's countenance. The robe it wore was tattered and frayed at the ends, some of it in ragged strips.

"Hello Severus," a voice that was the wisp of a dying man and the scream of a tortured child all at once replied with the calmness of one who mastered death as Severus himself had mastered potions. He winced and nodded his head. If this was him this was the part of Potter and contained power that had made Voldemort fear him. This thing needed to be given the respect it was due. "Looking for Harry?" the voice chuckled and hissed simultaneously.

Severus examined the creature, if this was the thing causing the nightmares revealing that he sought out Potter would more likely than not cause it to attack him, but if it was Potter himself than perhaps it would guide him to the rest of his being. He held his tongue, knowing further knowledge was required.

A deep chuckle that was created of all things cruel and destructive issued past the creature's lips and it started to circle Severus. Beneath the hood he saw ice-blue lips pull back into a smile as fangs bit into each-other. The grin spread wider, splitting the seams of his lips and causing blood to spill across the dagger teeth.

"You can't have him Severus," the entity chuckled. "Harry belongs to me. He is mine."

Despite the creature's answer Severus could not discern if this was Potter or an entirely different person, in either case the monster was dangerous.

"And why is he yours?" he asked in a neutral tone, trying to remain calm as the grinning beast continued to circle him, those sneering fangs covered in blood.

"I am grooming him to be so."

Severus kept his lips sealed as a series of deadly spells ran through his mind to attack the creature with. This pustule was the cause of all the problems? It was the reason he was even here?

The creature cackled and barked, its' laugh the sobs of a thousand dying children.

"Understand now do we?" it hissed as it continued to circle him like the vulture it was. "Now you listen to me Albus and Severus," the Potions Master's eyes widened at its' knowledge of Albus being within the confines of Potter's head as well. He gasped and cursed himself for his ineptitude as the creature knocked him to the ground. His body slammed not onto a solid floor but what felt like broken glass. Its' grip tightened around his throat, digits as frigid as the chill of death. Severus couldn't fight, couldn't move a limb as he tried to arch his body, to curl a finger, to even curse the creature. He felt his veins freeze, his blood harden as his veins became incased in ice.

"Listen to me Severus Snape, and especially you Albus, Harry belongs to me and my kin now. You had to go and neglect your precious little tool. You left your Golden Boy to his thoughts and his fears after the deed was done. Such common follies that you fools of flesh mortal men make. Do you know what the consequence of your actions are Albus? The product, the result, the answer, and culprit all lay within **_ME_**!"

Like a vice the grip tightened and that fanged sneer lengthened with gleeful maliciousness. He couldn't struggle but he wanted to scratch his nails along that mouth, to shatter the red-smeared teeth with his own hands. But as he struggled, or tried to, fear rose in his mind like the fluttering rising bubbles of air streaming from the mouth of a drowning man.

"Poor Severus," the creature sneered as the long claws continued to squeeze. "You know nothing you pathetic sack of flesh. You're a helpless child, can't even fight back." The fanged smile never tore away from Severus' gasping face. "And the best part is Albus can only watch!" the monster's shrill laugh filled his head even as his ears felt clogged. "He cannot save you! He'll fail yet again!"

His vision became hazy; the darkness around him filled his own mind. It called to him, sought out his soul to destroy him and fracture him. The siren song was a hissed lullaby of death in his ears as the fingers tightened further and harder around his throat. Less he struggled, his body forgetting how as it fell deeper into the darkness. His breath became shorter and weaker, his veins frozen. Severus was becoming trapped in a frozen lake. The gleaming crimson-smeared fangs were the only thing that remained vivid in his blurred vision.

"Yes Severus, yes, time for you to die."

Severus felt his mind start to go dark, felt his eyes about to close.

"**_NOOO!_**" a voice screamed and echoed across the darkness.

The monster was flung away, a scream of rage tearing from its' lips as it turned to face the cause of its' flight. Severus' eyes snapped open and instead of the eternity of the dark wall that was Potter's mind, he winced as the harsh light and stark white of the infirmary seared into his retinas. He gasped for air, gulping it down mouthful after mouthful, feeling the blood rush through his veins as his heart pounded in his rib-cage, desperate to escape and seek warmth. Albus was beside him, gripping his hand as a python did its' prey. He had a fear in his eyes as he just stared ahead of him.

Poppy was beside them, every wrinkle, every crease in her face prominent as her lips were pressed in a firm line, her hands ringing the hem of her apron.

"Albus... Albus I don't like this. I don't like this a single whit Albus!" she hissed as she stood in front of them, handing Severus and Albus a glass of water.

But the headmaster ignored her, weary blue eyes with a tinge of fear gazed down at the corpse-still body of Potter, angry red hand-marks slowly appearing around Potter's throat. His skin was pale, his cheeks shallow, he was a true broken glass.

Severus gulped down the water, wincing at the burn it caused in his throat but he ignored it as he fought to regain his voice. He stared between the headmaster and the broken visage that he had thought was Potter but was merely a reflected illusion on a sliver of glass that had once been the "Golden Boy," seeking answers and gaining none from either.

The words of the creature he had encountered slithered through his mind and wrapped around his thoughts until he mistook them for his own and his eyes narrowed, a snarl on his lips.

"ALBUS WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON!" his rage reverberated off the walls and pounded against all of their skulls.

The aged wizard closed his eyes, easing his grip on Severus' hand to clasp his own together. He moved them, resting his peeling lips against the wrinkles on his thumbs.

"Call," his voice was soft, meek, he cleared it, "Call Minerva," he said again, the strength he always retained once more returned. "And the Minister as well... This is far worse than I feared..." Albus closed his eyes, looking old and tired as he opened his eyes to run his wrinkled hand through Harry's hair. "I pray we can stop this in time," he whispered, the words meant for Harry fell upon deaf drowning ears.

----


	3. Chapter Three To Meet the Nightmare

**Title:**Existing is My Nightmare

**Chapter:** 3/?

**Rating:** M

**Pairings:** Severus/Harry

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Warnings:** This story will contain situations of torture, extreme violence, relationships of the homosexual and heterosexual nature, and character mental instability, as well as **graphic****depictions of gore**, this story is AU and does not take place within the Harry Potter timeline

----

**Chapter Three: To Meet the Nightmare**

A snarl tore past his fangs as he was flung away from Severus. Harry's scream of desperation echoed as Severus Snape almost died within the confines of the boy's mind. His fists clenched and his body shook in restrained fury as he watched Albus and Severus disappeared and returned to their reality, knowing that with Albus getting away the meddling fool would now try and stop the process. He hissed and growled but then took a deep breath, his eyes closed, allowing air to fill his lungs like a glass of cold water down his throat, he calmed down with each deep breath. No. No, soon it would be too late for the bumbling codger to intervene in the plans with the precious little toy.

The clatter the Potions Master had caused while he trudged through the darkness stopped echoing. A silence filled the void as Harry's cries started to lessen and break away with every repeating resonance, growing softer against the walls of darkness.

A slow crawling smile like the leisured pace of a spider spanned across his lips and bit into the corners of his cheeks as blood seeped along his teeth.

"Harry," he called out in a soft coo, his voice reverberating along the growing keening wail that was Harry's eternal cries. "Harry come out here precious," he purred as his steps glided across the darkness, seeking the boy's inner-image.

He heard the soft broken sob that interrupted the long shrill of his little toy's usual wailing and chuckled. Like a wisp of fog he sailed along the darkness towards the noise to a briar-patch. Within the center of it was Harry, naked and curled in on himself screaming out as the vines and thorns were wrapped around him in a far more effective restraint than any chains or magic could achieve. The boy was gorgeous as his bloody fingers picked at the vines along his wrist and palms. His entire essence covered in blood and scars. The cuts and scratches and bruises from where the flesh-rendering-thorns had torn at him to pull him down and shred him to pieces remained prominent along the ghost-pale flesh. The vine around Harry's neck, he noted, had been grabbed and pulled at until it had been removed. Of course the vine had returned its vice-grip around his toy's throat but that Harry had pulled it off at all meant that once again his fighting spirit was slowly burning within him.

He reached down and grabbed Harry's hand, the vines and thorns tearing out of his flesh to scurry back into the safety of the rest of the briar and Harry sobbed as more flesh tore. He hugged him closer to ease him as his grin widened.

"Shh, shh," he soothed as he held the crying boy close, stroking his back in circles as he pushed some blood-clumped strands of hair away from Harry's forehead to reveal the scar they had sliced open.

The boy was shivering, his naked body not gaining any warmth from the fire of crimson ribbons that trailed along his skin. The darkness surrounding them became crisp and chilling as Harry gasped for air. When the toy realized who was holding him he screamed and fervently struggled to get away. Harry's bloody hands pushed against the folds of his darkness. His darkness incased the toy, and Harry fed him, aroused him. He grinned as he moved a hand to grab both of Harry's wrists, crushing them in his grip as he held them together. The scream that issued past those bleeding-cracked lips was music of the heavens to his aching ears.

"What did you think you were doing Harry?" he hissed as he brought their lips close and Harry turned his head away in a weak attempt to escape the scent of blood on his breath. "Did you think I wouldn't know that you shoved me away from Severus? Do you think I'm stupid Harry?"

Red-rimmed green eyes instantly snapped up to look at him as the boy shook his head in earnest, trying to deny such an allegation. Harry knew that such an accusation would put him through harsh punishment like it once had when the nightmares had first begun and he had struggled against the torture.

"N-No! No I-I don't!" the broken whisper pleaded.

"No, I don't suppose you do," he chuckled as he ran his fingers down Harry's neck, tightening his grip on the shattered wrist. Harry whimpered and he chuckled. "But what did you think you were doing pushing me from away from Severus, Harry? I nearly had his soul and yet you pushed him back to the bad world."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Why did you send him back precious? Don't you remember what I told you about the bad world?" he asked as a serpentine tongue ran up Harry's cheek, leaving burnt flesh in the wake of its trail.

Harry sobbed in misery before bowing his head, crying.

"I don't want him here; I don't want him in my mind again. L-Let him stay in the b-bad world."

"Is that so? Poor precious," he soothed lapping at the blood around his scar and watching the burnt flesh slowly become charred to black. "I suppose I can forgive you for that," he chuckled, blue lips spreading in a wider grin.

He heard a sigh of relief and gently yanked on Harry's wrist and tilted his chin up.

"Wha - "

"Shh... I have forgiven you for sending Severus away precious, but you still need to be punished for daring to shove me."

He purred as his arousal strengthened when those green eyes widened in fear and the precious toy shook his head in desperation.

"N-No! No no no! I'm sorry! Please! Please I'm sorry!"

"Not yet precious. A nightmare," he grinned as tears started to fill those eyes. "Yes, a nightmare is in order precious," he hissed as he brought their faces close. "You will be sorry, you will be."

He breathed into Harry's pleading mouth and those crying eyes dilated until the black pupils filled from corner-to-corner and the toy fell limp in his arms.

"Yes our precious one, you most certainly will be."

He laid Harry back into the barbs and thorns and he watched in pleasure as the vines once more sought purchase in Harry's flesh, biting, sipping, draining, and bruising. He crouched down, placing his fingers along Harry's scar so that he could make sure the boy submerged into the depths of the nightmare.

He felt his body sucked into Harry's dream-self, always amused by how many layers he actually had to go through to reach the real essence of the boy's psyche.

He entered the nightmare he had constructed in a breath and for a moment he admired his handiwork. He inhaled the rich scent of rotting flesh as the literal ocean of corpses rose and fell like real waves, going on and on to meet the horizon of the tomb-stone-gray sky. The blood that kept the bodies adrift stained the corpses a deep rusting crimson. He drew in the scent of death in a sick satisfaction as he walked along the surface of the ocean, seeking out the faces of Harry's loved ones.

When he came upon the face of the toy's godfather he chuckled as he heard broken screaming and gazed down through the spaces of the corpses, seeing a struggling, clawing hand trying to break through them and push them aside to get to the surface.

"Oh Harry," he chuckled as his blue-tinged lips pulled further into a smile. "The nightmare has barely begun!" he laughed as he snapped his fingers, watching in malicious glee as the eyes of the corpses snapped open and their fingers flexed before wrapping around Harry and dragging him down into the depths where the corpses of his parents awaited him so they could destroy him.

His green eyes narrowed in rapture at the screams gurgling past the toy's lips as blood clogged his throat.

"Precious little toy... soon you'll be mine."

A moment passed and he waited, a sigh escaping his ice-frosted lips. He pressed them in a firm line. Albus had escaped, and while Harry may not have known of the headmaster's presence, he had, and he needed to know what they were discussing and how much the bumbling fool knew.

He walked out of the nightmare and into the outer-realm of Harry's mind, grinning as he brought himself to the surface of the darkness.

The sounds of the bad world clattered in his ears as it was the first sense to hit him.

"... HELL IS GOING ON!" he scowled as he heard Severus scream, knowing that had the toy not interfered then Snape wouldn't even be able to speak.

The stinging smell of lemon and antiseptic that clung to the walls of any hospital hit his nose next as his precious one's chest rose and fell. Touch came next.

He nearly shot up to claw out Dumbledore's eyes for touching **his** toy by the hand and hair.

Finally sight came, but he waited until he heard the steps and heat from their filthy bodies move further away into another part of the infirmary. He gathered Harry's magic and put up a Notice-Me-Not spell in silence before sitting up and grinning. He looked out through Harry's eyes, sneering as he watched Severus sitting on a bed with Albus standing only a few feet away.

Severus was - by nature - a patient man; he had to be when one worked with potions and had been a spy for the worthless beast known as Voldermort. Severus had the ability to wait, and wait he would. He watched as Snape waited for McGonagall and the Minister. However, as the Potions Master sat on the bed, a cup of tea in his lap, that didn't mean the man _**wanted**_ to be patient and wait for an explanation about the event he had just barely survived.

Although he, himself, wondered idly why Albus would call the useless talking head known as the bad world's Minister (and how Fudge had retained his power merely reaffirmed his hatred for the bad world). The wait for McGonagall was probably already fraying Severus' strained nerves.

"Albus," he heard Severus hiss, breathing through his teeth perhaps in an effort to remain calm, "what happened back there? As I was nearly killed I believe you should be telling me everything."

Albus looked at him, and he took pleasure in the dark somber eyes gazing back at the Potions Master.

"Severus," he felt Harry's body take in a breath, how much had he figured out? "How much do you know about the Nightmare King?"

----

DUN DUN DUN!

Yes! So, the creature now has a name, I'm sorry for the gory chapter, next one will explain somethings and more than that, you'll get to see Harry and Snape actually TALK, yes I know, amazing chuckles


	4. Chapter Four To Listen to the Nightmare

**Title:** Existing is My Nightmare  
**  
Chapter:** 4/?  
**  
Rating:** M  
**  
Pairings:** Severus/Harry  
**  
Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
**  
Warnings:** This story will contain situations of torture, extreme violence, relationships of the homosexual and heterosexual nature, and character mental instability, as well as **graphic depictions of gore**, this story is AU and does not take place within the Harry Potter timeline

-- --

**Chapter Four: To Listen to the Nightmare**

A long maniacal laugh echoed off the walls of the darkness, flittering and jeering at the words Albus sputtered and had fallen from his lips. He laughed, clutching his sides.

"The _Nightmare King_? The _**Nightmare King**_? Oh you must be kidding me! Albus you bumbling old fool, you could never be more wrong!"

He once again moved to look through Harry's eyes, gazing out at the man humans considered the fountain of knowledge. How often man forgot, that humans did not know everything.

"The Nightmare King?" Severus sneered, "Albus it sounds like a story you tell frightened brats so they behave."

Albus leveled a look at the Potions Master, reminded of how young he still was and how old he was becoming.

"You should know better Severus, a myth or legend has some root in fact."

"And this root? This legend?" he scowled.

Albus closed his eyes and Severus tightened the grip on his tea-cup.

"The Nightmare King was once a wizard like you or I. But he dabbled in magic that was darker than the night. He learned to control magic that festered from black, twisted souls of convicts, murderers, those who were rightly condemned. He became able to wield that sick magic to his will, becoming the most twisted in process. He seeped into the minds of wizards and muggles alike, left them a hapless shell maddened and broken. Merlin finally stopped him, but..." Albus sighed as he opened his eyes, "Such a vortex of cruelty does not simply disappear, especially when it gained him immortality. It is speculated that every Dark Lord in existence is visited by him, guided by him. Some even think he is their real father."

"And Potter killed Voldemort, what does he want with him? Revenge? It can't merely be that or he would have come after you."

The old headmaster nodded and Severus sipped the tea he had been handed.

"It is my belief that he desires him as his high consort."

Severus scowled deeply, not willing to look at Potter. The boy was an unwilling factor at the heart of all things. Perhaps it was a curse from his fool of a father who desired nothing but the spotlight when he had lived. This Nightmare King had tried to kill Severus, would have succeeded in fact had the boy not interfered.

"Is there anything we can do to stop him?"

There was a long silence between them and Albus removed his glasses, pressing aged fingers to his eyes. Severus' eyes narrowed.

"I don't know," Albus whispered.

The Potions Master took a deep breath and set his tea aside, looking at the man so many exalted. He was standing there, tired, weary, and at the end of his ropes, they all were.

"What... will happen to Potter?"

"From what I've gathered," Albus took a deep breath, "he will try and twist Harry's soul. He will attempt to destroy it into little pieces that he can then mold into one similar to his own."

Severus eyes widened.

"The... attempted murders..."

Another nod from Albus, solemn and weary, aged and tired.

"And while Harry is fighting against it... if Harry were to successfully kill someone... Then..."

"Then the twisting will really begin," Severus let out a suffering sigh, his tea cold now. "Albus we can't have him near the students, not when this King wants Harry to commit murder. We shouldn't have him near **you**!"

"Sever -"

But Albus was unable to finish whatever thought he was about to say for Minerva and Minister Fudge - who was surrounded by six Aurors - entered the infirmary. Minerva sought out Albus' eyes whilst the buffoon Fudge looked upon them all with haughty and undeserved superiority.

"So what's this then?" Fudge started, **daring** to try and control the situation which he knew nothing about. "Mr. Potter will be tried for several counts of attempted murder as well as destruction of property and spell use outside of school."

Severus could ring that man's throat, disgusted by him. He made to stand up to leave but Albus rested a hand on his shoulder while he landed a cool and calm gaze on Cornelius. He smiled in such a way that would soothe a tantrum-flinging brat.

"Now Cornelius there is really no need for that. You were made aware and involved in the situation at hand because we need you."

Albus bolstered to Fudge's avarice and vain stupidity, no one beyond the Minister truly felt he was to be involved.

Minerva, the shrewd lioness she was, eyed the Minister before turning to the headmaster, solemn.

"Albus," she whispered, "what..."

"Allow me to explain the situation at hand my dear Minerva," Dumbledore's voice was somber but as he - the _Nightmare King_ - looked through Harry's eyes he witnessed Albus release his power among them, calming them. "Harry Potter's very soul is in danger."

Within the precious one he snorted in amusement. The old fool was always one for dramatics. He watched as Severus rolled his eyes and the filthy pus of a Minister try to fake compassion for the precious one.

The _Nightmare King_ pulled away from the surface, closing Harry's eyes and letting the spell drop and his body fall back to the infirmary bed. The fool headmaster had only gotten **one** thing right, if he got the precious one to commit a successful murder, than everything would **_truly_** begin. A slow grin pulled across his cold lips as he went back into Harry's mind, deep into the nightmare the others had created. A long chuckle slipped past the seams of his mouth as he gazed around at the gray-corpse sky and the long wave of dead bodies. He filled his lungs with the stench of decay as he watched and listened to the beautiful screams as the corpses attacking Harry had just ripped out those beautiful emerald eyes.

He continued to watch for a moment as the scratched, bruised, beaten, and bloody body of the precious one struggled and fought against the ocean of corpses with ferocity, refusing to give in and just drown. But, as he needed Harry to do something, the corpses would have to have their fun another night. He snapped his fingers and the nightmare ended faster than a frightened heartbeat. He caught Harry as he was about to fall to his knees. The boy had fought but long sobs broke and echoed off the darkness around them. Beautiful tears fell from returned blood-shot eyes.

"Shh... Shh..." he soothed, his grin widened as Harry clung to him with a vice grip as he shook. He ran his fingers through the precious one's hair and along the rapidly healing skin. The spilt blood was being sucked back into him. Those scared and frightened orbs looked up at him, a sob on those peeling lips. "I'm here my precious one. See how I hold you? Hear me soothe you?" he cooed as he licked away a tear.

"I-I see you, I-I hear you," Harry whispered back, clinging and shaking as he rested his head on the shoulder of his savior.

"See me, hear me, heed me and listen. Harry, you must do something again."

"I-I must?" the boy was still confused and that confusion made him so endearing. Harry was a little featherless bird who he had plucked the feathers from, and the little bird shuddered and quivered to the warmth his hands provided so beautifully.

"Oh yes pet, do you know who is here? Who can be within your grasp at this very moment?"

"N-No," he whispered, a deep tremble wracking through his thin body as he tightened his grip. "If I do this, c-can I sleep? N-No nightmares?" he whimpered.

"If you complete this task I will allow you to sleep without nightmares," he purred back, running a nail down each vertebra. "But precious shush now and listen. Minister Cornelius Fudge is here. You will kill him Harry. You will kill him and help make the bad world a little better. You will kill Minister Fudge. You will help the bad world."

He watched as the trance already started to take hold. He was always amused by it. Once Harry actually killed someone the trance wouldn't be needed, or - at least - not one so compelling.

They rose to the surface of Harry's mind and he let Harry hear the words. He let them wash over Harry so the boy could recognize the voices, but he did not let Harry comprehend the words.

He moved to stand behind the precious one, moving his claws up to Harry's temples. His blue-tinged lips pulled wide, blood leaking across his teeth as he dug his claws in.

"Kill Fudge," he hissed in Harry's ear, licking the shell. "Snap his neck, choke him, suffocate him," he dug his nails in deeper until he heard a soft gasp. "_**MURDER HIM HARRY**_!"

His grin widened further, slicing up into his cheeks. He knew Harry's eyes dilated to such a degree that his pupils overtook the entire iris, not a speck of green left in his eyes.

The trance was in control now.

He pushed Harry to the surface of his mind completely. Harry rose up, rolling his neck as he stood with fluid grace. The shouting and screaming adults didn't notice him. But adults never noticed anything about children when it was important.

"Albus you can't!" a lioness's roar.

"Really headmaster," a calm cutting knife sliced.

No, they were not his prey. Where were you little grime?

"Harry will **not** go to Azkaban," an old wave soothed.

"We'll put him there for his own protection and the protection of others!" there! **_Fudge_**.

Kill him. Kill him. Destroy him. Murder him. Murder the pus who oozed and gushed and made the bad world worse. Unsightly, unseemly, destroy, remove, eradicate, kill Fudge.

He continued to walk across the stones getting closer to his fat little pustule prey and those angry adults noticed nothing, those acclaimed guards never saw him. Faster than the Aurors realized, faster than any of them realized he was upon the Minister. Within his body rose a sick pleasure as he enclosed his fingers around the pompous prick's fat neck and _squeezed_. He wanted the man's face to be as green as his hat.

Those beady eyes locked with his. Surprise, shock, **fear** held within them and he giggled in further rapture. Murder Fudge and help the bad world. Help the bad world get better. Do as he was told and no more nightmares.

No more seeing his godfather's head in his cauldron during Potions.

No more seeing the corpses of his parents and friends hanging from the rafters of the Great Hall and within the canopy of his bed.

No more hearing the hisses of Voldemort in his ear and telling him that he would become as twisted as he had been.

No more hearing how disappointed his parents were in him and wishing he were dead.

No more if only for a day, no nightmares for a day. Voldemort would stay in his grave if only for a day.

_Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!_

A scream of fury ripped past his lips as he felt his hands pried apart. He watched - as if not himself - as his own body was dragged further away from the maroon-faced Minister.

They started yelling.

"How is he awake?"

"But the potion!"

Words, utterly useless words spewed from those uncaring, bad-world adults. Kicking and growling he tried to break the hold on his arms and he heard a shout as his foot connected with a shin. Every cell in his body burned with the need to kill the Minister. But instead the Minister flew farther from him. He pulled, he tugged, he yanked. He did everything he could think of to break the hold on him.

"Get a hold of him!"

They were taking away Fudge. Farther, farther, farther. No, no, no!

He watched as the Minister was hidden behind a wall of bodies.

He had failed. His eyes widened. He stilled. He didn't breathe. He didn't blink. Finally, he filled his lungs with the smoke of a shuddering breath.

He screamed.

A torrent wave of despair destroyed his body and left it in pieces on the shore of his sanity.

Hands were clawing now, claws were scratching. The other knew. He had to know about the failure. Thick tears burned his eyes and skin as they fell.

No... No... No, no. NO! NO! NO! NO! **He had to stop the nightmares and help the bad world!**

Hands and claws and shouts, he clawed and tore back. He tried to piece together the cracks of his sanity again. Return it to a semblance of thought like he always did. He broke free and laughed as tears kept falling. He laughed. Only after failing he broke free.

"Restrain him!"

"You can't! The potion!"

He fell to his knees, sobbing and laughing and crying all at once. He could see the shore, his limbs laid across the sand like a beacon. He remained on his knees and looked up at the ceiling. Tears fell fast as maddened laughter popped bubbles on his tongue.

"N-No," he got out, eyes becoming aware of more than just his limbs and the Minister. He remained smiling but he screamed again, clenching his eyes tight as he doubled over, hiding his face in his hands. His tears were hot boiling water on the skin of his palms and he wanted nothing more than to cut his body to ribbons and just lay on the safe shore forever.

"Wait!" a hiss, calming, soothing cold balm on his hot boiling skin.

Gentle fingers lifted his head and he watched for a second as tears hit those fingers. Black eyes seared into him, started gathering up his limbs.

"No," he sobbed, no longer able to laugh.

"No what Harry?" that cold voice twined around his limbs and soothed the burns.

"N-No more nightmares!" he pleaded to those eyes, to that voice. "No m-more. He-Help the bad world a-and stop the nightmares!"

"How do we stop the nightmares Harry? How do we help you?"

He could feel the suffocating velvet start to tug on his mind. The other knew Harry had failed and that velvet was going to seek out those torn limbs. A sharper tug on his mind and a deep disappointed chuckle prickled with a needle's kiss against the back of his skull.

His sobs shuddered in his chest as he looked around, eyes wide, heart frantic. He prayed that the bodies would remain in their graves.

"No... No, no, no, no, no! Y-You can't!" he pleaded to the other, the one in his head.

"Calm down Harry," black eyes and a stern silk voice cooled him and kept his attention. Who... was this? A thick sob spread as the needles started to travel further in his mind. "Tell me."

"If-If I help the bad world!" he started, looking around again, seeking the corpses he knew the other favored. "The bad world is... if I help... one night... many nights... entire nights of sleep!" he shivered and pulled away but those fingers pulled him forward again.

"And how do you help the bad world Harry? What is asked that you do?"

He whimpered and shook his head as the pain in his skull increased. The other was nearing.

He was being pulled away from the shore, back down into the depths and fear bubbled up like the fleeting bubbles of his breath. **He** knew he had failed. **He** knew those eyes and that voice was asking questions and Harry was giving answers. The needles sharpened and thickened to knives.

He looked around again, choking on a sob at his foolish habit. The monsters were in his head, behind his eyelids.

He saw the silver one, a name came to him. Dumbledore. The one standing a bit a ways from him was the trusted headmaster. He closed his eyes, bowing his head as he sobbed again.

"He-Help me," he begged the man. He turned back to the onyx orbs and silken words. Eyes wide and pleading. "Help me," he whimpered.

A wordless whimper fell past his lips in easy accord as he felt corpse-cold hands on the skin of his neck and cheeks but Harry could not see them. No one saw them. He was touched and caressed and he shivered in repulsion.

"Please..." he whispered. "Please... I-I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" he shook his head trying to convince the other. "I-I'm trying! Please."

"_That's not enough my precious one. Fudge is still alive!_" words crawled like spiders along his skin where those hands weren't touching him. A tongue sticky like a web licked his neck. He gulped and started to shake as if electricity passed through him.

"Harry! Harry look at me!" the silk voice urged.

"The boy has gone absolutely insane!"

"_Listen to Fudge's bile, precious. So scared of you yet he will not try to help one such as you. You don't deserve help. Not from the bad world, not from anyone except me._"

"I-I don't... I don't want to kill! I-I don't I don't I don't!" he shook his head so violently pain rose in his neck.

"Look at me Harry!"

"_You don't want to help the bad world pet? Make it better? Make it safer?_"

"Don't... The bad world isn't... Please..."

"LOOK AT ME HARRY!"

His head snapped up and he gazed into the ebony eyes. The hands lessened, the tongue pulled away. He gulped as he looked at those eyes, in them and through them. Were the eyes going to help him?

His chest heaved and he bowed his head. His vision was getting blurry, his head pounded as if a dragon raged within his skull. Beating, pulsing, he could hear his pounding heartbeat as his temples matched it in rhythm.

He had to get the words out to those eyes. Those eyes that made him better.

"Help me!" he panted, tears starting anew. "Please," he whimpered, not daring to close his eyes as they burned from the tears.

"How Harry? Tell me how?"

"Stop... Stop him!" he reached out for those eyes.

"_**THAT IS ENOUGH!**_"

A scream broke and bled his lips as claws and talons grabbed and tore into his flesh. Gashes appeared all along his skin like a paint-brush on a blank canvas. He continued to scream and bleed as not blood but spiders and crawling oozing darkness fell out from his wounds.

"_You think the can stop ME, Harry? Do you think YOU can stop me!_"

His reaching hands were slapped to the ground as the spiders wrapped their web tighter and tighter around his limbs. He whimpered as he pulled and tugged but couldn't break the silk.

"_I think you and I need to have a little chat my precious one_."

His eyes widened.

"N-N-No! No please! No! NO! Please! Please!" he sobbed. "I-I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No please! Please! Please don't! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I heed you! I listen!"

"_Not yet pet, not yet, but we will clear your ears_."

The knife in his skull stabbed his eyes and struck him down. He fell into the black and into waiting, fang-baring arms.


End file.
